


let go.

by stillnotfictional



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Crows, F/M, Fanfiction, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by a Bird, It Sucks, Karasuno, Oneshot, everyone's a minor character except reader and hinata, rated teen and up just to be safe, very very much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 23:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6541408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillnotfictional/pseuds/stillnotfictional
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[ hinata shouyou x reader ]</p><p>If i let go, would you look for me?<br/>Would you look back?</p><p>―</p><p>Oneshot. Much angst. Rated for Teens + Above just to be safe. Implied character death.</p><p>You might be confused at first, because it really doesn't seem like a reader insert... whoooooops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let go.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 2am and honestly, I don't know how.  
> I got obsessed with Haikyuu!! Yayyyy another fandom to ruin my life completely.  
> Well, hope you enjoy :)

**_let go._ **

_hinata shouyou x reader_

_―_

_If I let go, would you look for me?  
would you look back?_

 

She holds on tight to the back of his shirt, like a child clinging onto his mother. “Shouyou,” she whispers to the orange-haired boy walking in front of her, currently arguing with a certain setter. “Shouyou.” He doesn’t answer her, can’t hear her over the noise of himself.

 

It’s not new, though. He would unintentionally ignore her for volleyball, for his team, for his friends, for his family. It’s like having a girlfriend status but coming in 4th, 5th, 6th in terms of what is important to him. She doesn’t complain, voice it out, but inside she feels it killing her over and over.

 

_ Her legs burn from walking for such a long time, but she can’t feel it, the numbness masking the pain. She pushes all thoughts aside, her mind a blank piece of paper as she walks up, up, up. _

 

They’re walking in the crowded streets of Tokyo. She was invited to the training week, and the teams decided that, before Karasuno returned to their district, they would go show the Karasuno students the busy streets of Tokyo. The teams are split into groups, each group having a mix of at least two or three teams. Her group consists of ten people; Hinata, Kageyama, Kuroo, Kenma, and Nishinoya are just a few of them.

 

She’s walking right behind her boyfriend, Hinata, who had suggested she came with him. Her parents are gone for the month, visiting America where her aunt lives. Hinata’s mother was kind enough to let her sleep at their house. Since she is staying with Hinata, the team agreed to take her to the camp.

 

_ Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Her breathing is calm, matching her empty heart and mind. She doesn’t feel anything, hear anything. All she can do is walk, putting one foot in front of another, pushing herself forward. She suddenly wishes that it was daytime. It would be a bit easier to walk that way. _

 

She glances at Kenma, who is walking beside her. He doesn’t look up from his video game, the screen bright and illuminating his blond hair. Yellow. Black. This reminds her of the night sky, right above her ― except that it’s missing the bright yellow dots.

 

Hinata’s cloth is still in her hands, and she holds onto it as if it is her lifeline, connecting her to the earth, grounding her onto the concrete sidewalk. Looking down at her shoes, she watches them move. Right foot steps forward, left foot steps forward, right foot, left foot… It’s simple, but mesmerising to her mind in some way. How do they have this power to put one foot in front of the other? How did it come so naturally?

 

_ Her foot falters, and she staggers, just a bit. But she doesn’t look down. Not that it would be of much use, anyways. It’s too dark to see where her foot is going to land. She trudges on, her eyes set on her destination. _

 

“Shouyou,” she tries again, and this time, Hinata somehow hears her soft whisper. Turning around, he cocks his head to the left, staring at her with a curious expression. She has so many things in her mind, but the only thing that comes out of her mouth is, “Do you know where we’re going?”

 

“I don’t know, but Kenma told me it’s cool!” he says, his enthusiasm skyrocketing. “We’re all going there, all of us!”

 

_ The tall, looming trees cover the view of the sky, but the green leaves, shadowed with dark black, are beautiful in their own way. They overlap each other, green on green, and it looks almost like the trees are competing which one’s going to be taller, to reach out more with their sharp branches. It reminds her of something, but she quickly pushes the thought away, away from her mind, away from her heart. _

 

The streetlamps are so bright that they block out the beautiful lights of the stars. She looks into the sky, but her eyes only met with a mix of bleak black and deep navy blue. Hinata’s wearing a completely white shirt, a contrast to the dark skies. It makes him stand out more, more than he already does. His orange hair is also a highlight, and no matter where she looks, her eyes are drawn back to him.

 

But his eyes aren’t. He’s looking in front, looking ahead. Never back, never back at her, at the past, to the end of the street where another group emerges from the dark shadows of the night. Only ahead, to their destination. Only up, toward the pure black sky, boring without stars.

 

_ The stars decorate the dark black sky, taking over what used to be light blue. The red of the sunset has already faded quite a while ago, dragging all colour with it. She is kind of glad for that, because she wants to see the stars. They’re so, so far away, yet they seem so close. They’re like little jewels dotting the night sky, an ornament to decorate the midnight black. _

 

She thinks really hard about it. If she did it now, she would never be able to get back ― to her life, marked by facades and worn down masks, permanent in the wearing. To her home, where her mother wouldn’t glance in her direction until she did something either really good or really bad and her father who would go to work, drink and sleep.

 

To her schoolmates, who sneer at her height and press her further into the ground. To her teachers, who forget how to  _ pronounce _ her name. To her cat, scratching her back and leaving a scar each day. To Shouyou, who is in front of her but also behind her at the same time.

 

_ Her footing falters again, and this time, she falls to the dirt. The end of the trees is just ahead, but roots seem to pull her back, the leaves blocking her sight. She staggers back onto her feet, but she falls again. This time, she stays. Her limbs feel so heavy, as if she was holding weight with both her arms and legs. _

 

She glances around. Kenma had walked a bit faster to catch up to Kuroo, who was leading the pack. Nobody walks behind her or next to her. They all walked in front of her, ahead of her. She is barely able to hold onto Hinata’s shirt as he jumps suddenly.

 

“How much further?” Hinata whines, and everyone laughs at his childish pout. She does not. She doesn’t even have the urge to smile. Not because she was used to, or tired of, his whining. She actually doesn’t know why she doesn’t laugh, because Hinata always manages to make her laugh.

 

_ She is sprawled on her side, her right leg bent and her left leg straight, her right arm reaching for the end of the forest and her left arm falling short. And then she gathers all the strength she can, the almost nonexistent leftover energy from the tiring walk. She pushes herself up, and this time she stays up, though she does sway a little, and her body sways left and right. Then she looks back, back at the journey, back at the forest she’s about to escape right now. _

 

She looks back. Hinata looks ahead. This isn’t new. It’s normal for her to look after him, to help clean up after him, so that he has no regrets about the path he’s taken. She sees the tall figures of Tsukishima and Asahi, the spiked white hair of Bokuto.

 

And then she looks ahead, where Hinata’s bright orange hair is taking up half of her vision. There’s Kageyama to the left of him, and she can catch glimpses of Kenma’s dyed hair and the tall figure of Kuroo. There are people to Hinata’s right as well, but they’re from other teams and she doesn’t know them very well.

 

_ She takes a step, then another, then another. It’s like gaining momentum, hard at first but getting easier and easier. She wonders quickly if this is what she felt when she was young, when she was inexperienced at this simple thing called walking. The art of placing feet in a specific place, making sure she doesn’t fall over because of a misplaced foot. _

 

Her hand is starting to hurt from the grip that she has on the back of Hinata’s shirt, and she contemplates it again. She wants to call out his name, but the cold of Tokyo’s night had frozen her lips, stopping them in the middle of the first syllable, not letting any sound through.

 

It’s like a barrier. Like a wall, the blocks that the spikers have to get through in order to score. Only that the words that she’s struggling to form are the balls, unable to surpass the looming wall of her frozen lips. She wishes that her words has something to aid them, like the setters help spikers shake off the blockers, like Kageyama helps Hinata become invincible and unstoppable with his tosses.

 

_ The numbness is still present, but she can feel her limbs now. They’re scratched and bloodied, dirty crimson on her uncharacteristically pale skin. She approaches the end of the woods, her footsteps slow but not cautious, the thump, thump, against the earth becoming less and less frequent. And she looks up and sees the stars. _

 

The fabric is soft under her skin, but she can’t feel it. The whole world around her seems black and white, colours gradually fading in its vibrancy. She doesn’t notice until right then, but as she does, she wants to try something.

 

If Hinata looks around for her, trying to search her, she would have a place to stay. If he didn’t ― which was the more likable option ― then she wouldn’t. After all, it was decisions made without knowing it was an important one that really decides everything. Shouyou’s decision would tell her if she even had a place to go back to. Because every other part of her life was rotten and black and brown, the only light being the orange-haired male who didn’t know that he was.

 

_ She finds herself at the edge of the cliff. The view is breathtaking; stars are vibrant against the night sky. And she stays there, for who knows how long, losing track of time and space, focusing only on counting the stars that seems to be about everywhere in the space above her. _

 

She gulps, maybe ready for it and maybe not. Her hand slowly lets go of the white fabric.

 

_ She stands up. She’s not feeling tired, but the red of dawn is already approaching from the east. _

 

Hinata doesn’t look back. He doesn’t feel the hand holding him back. All he can feel is that he feels a bit more free, free to move forward and onto the next thing. Free to fly, fly right into the sky, blend right in with the blackness that stretched across the world.

 

_ She looks back at the forest. It might seem intimidating to another person, but she finds it enthralling. She hears the breathing of the trees, dark and rich in their colour. She takes a deep, slow breath. She’s ready. _

 

They’re a crowd away soon, but he can probably spot her if he just turns his head. If he just looks around, just maybe for a second. If she matters to him, if she isn’t a burden. If he cares.

 

He doesn’t look back.

 

_ She looks up at the sky. It’s still beautiful. Like the stars are forming patterns and mazes for her to go and get lost in. And for the last time, she holds out her hand toward nothingness. Toward where he should have been. _

 

Her hand involuntarily reaches out to Hinata. “Shouyou,” she whispers, for the last time. She whispers his name for the last time that day, but he still does not turn despite her last attempt to grab onto her lifeline, onto the last thing that she could hold onto for just one more second, one more minute.

 

He does not look back. She stops walking, letting the crowd flow around her. She can still see his back, can imagine the little wrinkle in his white shirt where she held on so tight.

 

_ Her arm is no longer reaching. They’re limp and falling behind her body, like her tears that stay momentarily in the air before falling, falling after her. _

 

Her hand falls to her side, and numbness fills her.

  
**_[name] lets go. And she flies._**

**Author's Note:**

> _And she takes to the sky with spread wings._


End file.
